Big Brother's Here, Sammy
by Alana Cartwright
Summary: Sam's got some ideas, and Dean's less than impressed.


**Summary: Sam's got some ideas, and Dean's less than impressed.**

He scrubbed his hand down his face, pushing away his dark thoughts and switching into what Dean would call his 'geek-mode'. The thought of Dean brought a faint smile that disappeared as fast as it had appeared. His brother's words from last night's dream still bounced around in Sam's head.

 _You're a monster, Sam. A monster. Just like the things that we hunt. I should've killed you when I had the chance._

The pile of papers and books around him were starting to feel suffocating, taunting him with his flaws and mistakes. He rubbed at his freshest scar, a long, white one across his chest.

He'd been trying for days now, to kill himself. He'd tried everything. Lit himself on fire, stabbed himself in several different places, put a bullet through his brain, but nothing worked. Lucifer just kept bringing him back, leaving a new scar as another reminder of his failures. _I couldn't even kill myself without screwing it up_ , he thought bitterly.

The books offered no answers, and the only way that he could think of was to burn the body right after he died. But doing so would require the help of someone else, and Sam didn't know if he was willing to ask anyone to help him.

 _On the other hand, I'm going to need some help_ , he thought absently. He could ask Dean, but that might need convincing.

With his mind made up, Sam Winchester steeled his emotions, getting ready to call up his brother for one last favor.

 **SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN**

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a deep breath as he prepared himself to step into the motel room. After not seeing his brother for weeks, he didn't know if he was ready to face his brother.

He pulled himself together and walked up the steps to the door, opening it. He scanned the room out of habit, noting the layout of the building and the possible ways to escape.

Sam was sitting on the bed surrounded by stacks of papers and books, looking like he hadn't slept in weeks. His glossy, overgrown mop of hair had been reduced to a tangled, lifeless heap of brown, and his once-healthy tan skin was pale and gaunt. But what really struck Dean was his eyes. Eyes that used to be so full of life, and love, and compassion were now sunken in, and so hollow that Dean would've thought he was dead were it not for the hitch of his breath every now and then.

Dean felt an involuntary surge of guilt and protection well up in his chest, choking him for a second at the pitiful sight that was once his baby brother. But he pulled up his best poker face, and walked over, sitting on the bed, across from Sam.

Sam looked up, and the first thing that Dean saw in his brother's eyes was relief. Relief that he had shown up, that he'd come when called, and that, after a second's glance, he was okay. Or at the very least, not dead.

That one hurt. The relief that normally would've been so annoying was now so painful that Dean had to look away from Sam's eyes at the thought that just showing up for an urgent meeting his brother had called him for was such a cause for alleviation.

"Hey, Dean," Sam whispered after a moment. "Look, um, I know you didn't want to see me, so I'll make this quick. Um, I need you to shoot me through the heart and burn my body." The last part was rushed, like he had to force the words out.

At first, Dean thought he had heard wrong. His baby brother wasn't asking him to kill him. He couldn't ask that. Could he?

"Hold on, Sammy, I don't think I heard you right," Dean said, forcing a lightness into his voice, with the nickname slipping out before he could stop it. "Did you just ask me to shoot you?"

Sam's mouth twitched up a little, as if asking his big brother to kill him was no big deal, but his tone was so matter-of-fact, it was sickening.

"Yeah, Dean, I did. I mean, I've tried so hard, but Lucifer always ends up bringing me back. I've electrocuted myself, stabbed myself, even tried burning myself, but every time I just ended up waking up again, as if all I'd done was take a nap. Look, I know you hate me and you think I'm a monster and you don't ever want to see me again and I get it, I do, but the only way we can stop the world from ending is to kill Lucifer's vessel, right? So you can shoot me and we can get all this over with."

His voice had grown more and more desperate, yet at the same time, resigned. His brother would get a chance to do what he'd always wanted to, ever since he'd found out he'd been working with Ruby. _You can get rid of me, just the way you want, Dean. Everything around me died, anyway, and I'm so tired of it. I'll end it, you'll be safe, the world will be safe, everything will be okay. You can get rid of the burden I've been to you since you ran out that burning house with me in your arms._

Dean, however, was appalled. Sam wanted him to shoot his brother. His baby brother, his _Sammy_? He wanted Dean to just salt and burn him like any monster? After all they'd been through together? Sammy's first steps, the first time he'd said Dean's name, which was also his first word, his first hunt, his first essay, it all flashed before his eyes. That last one slowed down a bit. He could remember Sammy coming home and telling him that they had to write an essay about their mom in class, but since he didn't have one, he'd just written about Dean instead.

And suddenly he was angry. Angry with Sam, with the angels, with Lucifer, with the world, and, most of all, with himself. He was angry that Sam thought that his life was less important than this world. Angry that he was so willing to give it away. And overall, angry that his baby brother, the kid that he had watched grow up, the kid he'd _raised_ , was now telling him that he'd already tried and failed with killing himself.

"Dean?" The single name was pronounced with so much hope and yet so much resignation that it broke, no, it _shattered_ Dean's wall of emotion.

"No," he said softly. "No, Sammy. I know things haven't been particularly great between us, but how could you ever think I'd want that, Sam? How could you ask me to do that? How could you already try?" Dean's voice broke towards the end, tears forcing their way to the surface and breaking his poker face.

Sam was surprised at that, but he kept his eyes firmly on the bed, suddenly very interested in the patterns of the cloth. Why did Dean sound so hurt? Didn't he want this to happen? Why was he passing up such a perfect opportunity to do something he'd wanted to do his whole life?

Dean must've seen something in his face, because he kept going, his voice sad and gruff and soft all at once. "I'll admit, I was upset. Hell, I was _pissed_. But I didn't want you gone, Sammy. I mean, it hurt that you took a demon's word over mine, it hurt like _hell_ , man, but that didn't mean you weren't my brother. I was angry with you, sure, but you thought I'd be okay with putting a bullet through your brain? That I'd be able to live with myself knowing that I killed the little brother that I had raised? _No_ , Sammy." His voice got even softer, somehow, cracking with emotion. " _No_."

A swirl of emotions pushed out from behind Sam's eyes, and before he knew it, he was stifling a sob. It had been so long. He was so tired, and all of his pent-up emotion burst through the dam, flowing out like a river. He'd unknowingly curled up into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest, and he was struck by a sudden sense of loneliness. Dean had crossed the bed at some point, and he could feel himself crumpling into a familiar embrace, full of the love and warmth that he so craved. He could hear Dean murmuring nonsense in his ear, running his hands through his hair soothingly, just like he had done when they were kids.

Dean was pouring all of his emotions into the embrace, every word that he wanted to say, every word that he'd been too afraid to say, pushed into a single action, a single thought: _take care of Sam_.

To Sam, it was such a lighthouse in the sea of darkness that he'd been drowning in. He felt like a five-year old in Dean's arms. His brother was here, and he was going to make things better. Dean was with him, holding the broken pieces of him together, and everything was going to be okay again. That thought brought a smile to Sam's face. A real, true smile, complete with dimples.

And then he was exhausted, not just emotionally but physically. His eyelids were like weights all of a sudden, he could feel them falling shut.

" _I'm so sorry I wasn't before, but I'm here now, Sammy. You hear that? Big brother's here now, Sammy. We're together. Just like old times, huh?We're going to make everything okay again._

And those were the last words he heard before the wave of unconsciousness swallowed him up, and for once in a _long_ time, Sam slept peacefully that night.

 **Dear Readers,**

 **I just felt super angsty and was in** ** _dire need_** **of some recovery fluff, so here it is! Anyways, read and review, fanboys and fangirls. Don't be a silent reader!**

 **~Alana**


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